The Unknown
by DHF of Walden
Summary: NOT a Parody. They're more vicious than a pack of Socs. More dangerous than Dallas Winston pissed off. And they're after the Greaser gang. They are... The Unknown.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, I am attempting to write a serious horror story here. NOT A PARODY. Geddit? Goodgood then. This is the prologue, it's pretty short. Do you think this is worth continuing? Oh well, even if you don't, I will anyway. And… on with the show. Third person, by the way.**

It was a typical evening at the Curtis household, as often is at the start of a horror story. Darry was making dinner, Pony was doing homework and Soda was flipping through a car magazine that Steve had lent him. All was well.

The same, however, could not be said for two other houses on the East side. A teenaged boy flew out each door, which in turn slammed behind him. The two greasers nearly collided as they stormed down the street, staring at their feet and sighing in frustration.

Johnny noticed the tennis shoe in his peripheral vision just in time so as to move out of the way and not smack into the adjoining body.

"Hey, Steve," he mumbled. His shoulder hurt. Johnny's father usually beat him with the first thing he could get his hands on, and tonight's weapon of choice had happened to be a chair. A small one, but wooden all the same. Johnny was getting to the point where he would just walk out at the first sign of anger from his parents, but sometimes he just wasn't fast enough.

"Hi Johnny," Steve mirrored Johnny's monotone, obviously preoccupied tone. He was still smarting from what his father had yelled at him. Wondering if he really meant it this time.

"I'm gonna go cool off. Wanna come?"

Johnny nodded and the two teens set off into the intricate maze of intertwining streets, a silent understanding passing between them. They were the castaways, the unwanted ones who actually gave enough of a damn to keep going back. That's what made them different from Dallas. They went back, they tried again, and no matter how futile their efforts seemed, Steve and Johnny kept hoping, believing, that things would get better. That one day their father or mother would treat their son like one of their own, as opposed to a punching-bag or an anger-management release therapy session.

Steve noticed a figure standing on the corner. Slightly odd, as there was not a car in sight. He wasn't waiting to cross the road. There was no reason for this man to be standing there, completely immobile like he was. Johnny noticed him too, and had a bad feeling in his stomach, although he didn't know why.

Steve grabbed Johnny by the arm and turned onto another road. That guy was probably a pusher, and Steve, for once, really wasn't in the mood for a fight. But the boys hadn't gotten more than three steps before they stopped dead in their tracks.

The reason being, there was a person standing at the end of this street too and he was identical to the first one.

The shadowy figure seemed to notice Johnny and Steve. It slowly turned its head, and the head was the only thing that moved at all. The rest of the body stayed completely still, and Johnny knew something was wrong.

The eyes were a murky shade of black. There was no white, nor pupil. Solid darkness was all that lay beneath the pale lids.

The thing took a step towards them, and Johnny screamed, "_RUN!!!"_

The two guys ran until they reached the Curtis house, praying they wouldn't see another--- whatever the hell that was--- on the way.

**A/N: So. There it is. PLEASE review, and you'll have the joy of knowing you made me smile!  
Good Night Fan Fiction Dot Net!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I couldn't sleep and ended up spitting this out. Honk if you like it! I've also updated my profile.**

Steve flung open the door, and him and Johnny tumbled inside rather ungracefully. Soda glanced up.

"Hey, guys. Is it raining out?"

"Huh?"

" ... You're all wet."

The two boys looked down and realized that they were, indeed, drenched in a cold sweat.

"What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Well ... something like that," Steve gasped out.

Darry walked in from the kitchen. "That you, Steve?" He stopped and looked from one petrified teen to the other. Nobody seemed to be hurt. "Parents, or Socs?"

Johnny shook his head wordlessly as Ponyboy entered the room, brandishing a completed sheet of math questions. "Darry, I'm do-"

He stopped when he saw Johnny and Steve.

"What-"

"Okay, enough," Soda said, cutting his little brother off. "Just let them talk."

He looked at their two friends imploringly. Steve took a deep breath and collected himself best he could. He began to explain, Johnny tried to jump in once in a while, but his voice seemed to falter a lot.

Darry listened intently through the whole thing, determined to find a logical explanation, wearing that set look that hid what he thought. Soda looked worried as Steve went on, possibly fearing that his best buddy had finally cracked. Pony had his eyes screwed shut, although what help that did him, nobody knew. He jumped, though, as Johnny spoke up.

"The eyes ..." he mused quietly, "They were just ... so ... black ..."

His eyes were wide enough to give the Grand Canyon a run for its money. His voice was oddly detached and his eyes were staring right through the people facing him, as if they weren't there.

Johnny didn't say anything more, so Steve picked up again with the telling of their encounter. Yet nobody forgot that haunted look that had passed over Johnny's features.

When the story had been told, everyone was silent for a minute. Then Darry sighed, "I don't know, guys. That's just too unnatural to be true. How could you have been sure of what you saw? It was already getting dark out. For all you know, he could have been wearing sunglasses."

Steve blinked. Of course, Darry would come up with an explanation ... but that didn't mean Steve was going to believe it.

"Well then, explain how there were two of them," he declared, then added, "Maybe more."

Darry was growing impatient. "Look, Steve, maybe they were part of a history group, re-enacting some event. Or maybe they _were_ drug dealers. Identical twins. Gang members. There are just so many possibilities. So, _let it go_."

Both men were glaring at each other like cowboys. You could have cut the tension with a knife.

"I don't _want_ to let it go!" Steve shouted. "I _know _what we saw!"

Darry's would-be reply was cut off by a sharp rap on the window. Everybody froze.

A small cloud of fog appeared on the glass, as if something had exhaled in front of it. A pale finger drew an 'x' in the cloud. The boys shuddered at the wet squeaking sound it made.

They could not see outside, but they all knew just what had made that 'x'.

"What does that mean?" breathed Soda, breaking the silence.

"Search and destroy!" wailed Ponyboy as he threw himself face-first onto the couch. His now cushion-muffled voice announced: "We're all gonna die!"

**Well, I s'pose it coulda done without that last bit, but oh , I'm not going to beg for reviews, but I mean, it would be nice. Well-rounded critique, or just tell me if you like it.  
DHF out.**


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